Galaxy Under Siege

by Tristan Vick

  In the next instant the entire planet exploded outwardly in every direction. Giant chunks of rocky debris flew out into space and a hailstorm of rock and detritus rose toward him like a raging tsunami.

  In the brief moment of solitude—he became the sailor looking out at the raging sea—he found peace of mind in the knowledge that he had helped saved the lives of all that remained of the Human race.

  All good captains go down with their ship, he reminded himself. And Earth was his ship. Looking up one last time, a sad smile formed on the corners of his mouth and the edges of his eyes rippled with an excess of tears. It was always hardest, he felt, finding the words to say goodbye.

  “Thou wast all to me...for which my soul did pine—A green isle in the sea...a fountain and a shrine.”

  4

  A dark halo of sweat saturated the neckline of Danica’s tan tank top as she hiked to the top of a large sand dune. Just as she reached the peak, a heavily armored drop ship flew overhead and circled back around. She looked up and waved to the woman peering out from the cockpit window. Raphine’s smiling face met her gaze and she nodded, letting Danica know that she had eyes on her.

  Smoking Zallek out like the cockroach he was had been a fun preoccupation, but now that she’d finally caught him, Danica knew it was time to start focusing on more important matters.

  Dagon Prime lay in ruins. H’aaztre’s avatars had decimated all their major cities in order to cripple the great empire and send a message to anyone thinking of resisting him. Nothing was out of their reach. Not even the mightiest empire the galaxy had ever known could stand up to them.

  After the Avatar of War, called Nodengoth, had taken Danica and Jegra’s child, the baby had disappeared off the face of the map. At the same time, the Nyctan and Nephilim allied armada, called the Fusion, continued to police the Commonwealth and everything in it.

  With the occupation fully underway, Nyctan grew more prosperous than it had ever been. This was partly due to the fact that they were the descendants of the Nephilim, the chosen people of H’aaztre. The only difference in their porcelain skin and obsidian black eyes was that some of the Nephilim had wings like those of an Arkadian fisher hawk.

  Favored by the new regime, Nyctan became an immense, yet inherently corrupt power—a new Mecca for evil in the galaxy.

  Luckily for Danica, however, a place as barren and unimportant as the desert moon of Thessalonica was of little value to the Gilded God and his acolytes. So, for the most part, Thessalonica went ignored, left more or less to itself.

  Other than the occasional port check, the Fusion patrols merely came down to collect offerings in the name of their God. Basically, every occupied territory was forced to tithe, to give as many assets as possible, as defined by the Fusion, naturally, in the name of pleasing H’aaztre. But seeing as Thessalonica hadn’t much to offer in the way of natural resources, the Nephilim didn’t terrorize them nearly as much as they did worlds which had bountiful resources.

  The past was hard for Danica to think about, but not nearly as hard as it had been for Jegra. In fact, she and Jegra should have died that day on the Shard.

  Fate, however, had other plans for them. And although Danica had been mortally wounded and Jegra rendered unconscious after a difficult birth and the emotionally shattering trauma of losing the child, it was Fate that had intervened.

  With the entire ship ripping apart all around them, amid all the chaos, Lianica had appeared to them in a beam of light. She saved them moments before the ship went up. And, as usual, Raven showed up just when Jegra needed her the most; she and her crew had swooped in and whisked them away from the battle.

  Raven brought them home, to Arena City on Thessalonica, and stayed for a stint. When it became painfully clear that Jegra wouldn’t be waking from her coma any time soon, Raven wished Danica and Raphine the best of luck and returned to her mission of rebuilding the fleet and, with any luck, building up the resistance.

  For Danica, though, the numbness and shock didn’t seem to fade; it began to define her. After the loss of her son, she felt hollow. Empty inside. And her best friend, the only person she’d truly opened up to emotionally, had fallen comatose. As if to add insult to injury, she didn’t lose one love that day; she had lost two.

  Sand whipped about and caused Dani to shield her eyes as the drop ship landed in a clearing several meters in front of her. The ramp lowered and Raphine sauntered out.

  The bounce in her step and her captivating swagger suggested she was almost as excited as Danica for having captured Zallek. At the same time, Raphine’s tight, khaki tank top slid up her taught abs from the motion of her swinging hips, teasing out her olivine midriff.

  She tugged her shirt back down to her flight issue black pants which, in turn, ran all the way down into military issue desert tan boots. She paused at the end of the loading ramp, hands on her hips.

  “You finally catch your great white whale?” Raphine asked, a pleased smile forming on one side of her mouth.

  Danica shot Raphine a curious look. That particular cultural reference wasn’t familiar to her. “Whale?” asked Danica.

  “It’s from one of Jegra’s favorite books. It’s about a maritime ship’s captain, Ahab, who’s hunting an elusive giant whale that bit off his leg after an encounter on the high seas.”

  “Did he ever catch the beast?”

  “Actually, he spent his life hunting it, only ever coming close, again and again, but never managing to kill it. Then, in his old age he tracked it down wrecking his ship in the process. He fought it with a rope and harpoon, but got entangled with the creature in the frigid waters. It pulled him under the jagged waves and man and beast disappeared into the depths of the ocean never to be seen again.”

  “That’s how the story ends?”

  “Well, there’s a bit after that. A boy gets rescued. But, that’s the fate of Ahab. Battling a monster till the bitter end until, finally, they sink into the abyss together. It’s the perfect metaphor for...well, you know.” She nodded her head at the unconscious body being dragged behind Danica.

  “Sounds like an intriguing story,” Danica said, smiling at Raphine. “But I’m still here and this isn’t any abyss,” she informed, jutting a thumb over her shoulder at the baked wasteland behind her, “and this here isn’t a white whale. Just an asshole.”

  Raphine laughed and then helped Danica drag Zallek up the ramp into the cargo hold of the drop ship. At Dani’s prompting, they let go of his hair and his head smacked against the metal floor with a resounding clunk.

  Raphine squinted her eyes at her reproachfully and Danica shrugged.

  “It’s the least he deserves,” Danica said in her defense.

  “It’s not that,” Raphine informed her. “It’s just...” she paused and formulated her words carefully. “It’s just that I was worried about you. That’s all.”

  “Don’t be,” Danica replied, turning back to find Raphine’s crystal blue eyes fixated on her.

  Raphine placed a gentle hand on Danica’s breast, the palm of her hand tenderly cupping the rounded fullness of her. “I couldn’t bear losing you too,” she said.

  Danica placed both hands over Raphine’s and smiled. “I’m right here,” she said. “That has to count for something, right?”

  Raphine flung her arms around Danica’s neck and gave her a massive hug. After their embrace, Danica laughed.

  “What was that for?”

  “I was going to try and keep it as a surprise, but I can’t contain myself any longer. I’m bursting at the seams to tell you...I have good news.”

  “What news, Raph?” Danica asked, more curious than ever.

  “She’s awake.”

  Danica froze, her eyes hanging on Raphine’s face as she tried to process the news. Somehow it didn’t feel real. It felt as though she was being pranked—as if it were all some kind of cruel joke.

  After all these months, was it really happening? Were her prayers finally answered? “You mean...?”<
br />
  “Yes,” Raphine answered, her pearly white smile spreading ear to ear beneath her lush, forest green lips.

  Danica cupped her mouth and, her legs growing weak, she sank to her knees. Warm tears streamed down both cheeks and quickly evaporated into the desert heat, disappearing again almost as quickly as they’d appeared. After catching her breath, she gathered herself, stood back up, and, clasping onto Raphine’s arms, said, “Take me to her.”

  Raphine nodded and seeing how Danica was still beside herself with shock, helped her into a seat that lined the inside hull of the drop ship.

  As Danica strapped in, Raphine turned and slapped the button next to the bulkhead to close the loading ramp. Without waiting for it to close all the way, she turned and marched back to the cockpit. It was time to go home.

  THIRTY-EIGHT MINUTES later, the Falcon dropship landed at the far end of the palace lawn.

  The grass compressed under the blast of the reverse thrusters, flattening in large circles beneath the powerful rotary turbines. As the landing skiffs of the ship touched down, palace security raced toward the rear loading ramp to assist in apprehending the fugitive, Gerrard Van Zallek.

  Chief of Security, Raphine Agnar brought the criminal out in shackles while Danica, anxious to see her luv, leapt off the loading ramp and dashed across the garden toward the woman dressed in a white gown. She was standing by the fountain watching small bees buzz excitedly about the palace flower beds that encircled it.

  “My god...” gasped Danica, stopping less than ten feet away from the angelic sight. “It really is you. You’re awake!”

  More tears trickled down her cheeks as her best friend and soul mate turned to her and smiled.

  Jegra, wearing a form fitting white dress that hugged her body like a milky residue, studied the face of the blue woman standing before her. For a moment, Danica felt worried that Jegra might not recognize her. After all, she’d had cortical stimulators inserted into her temples to help stabilize her neurological framework and ensure she didn’t slip back into a coma. Whatever else that did to one’s mind, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  Danica, still crying, smiled in return. She raced over and took Jegra’s hands in hers. Then, rising up on her toes, she gave Jegra a peck on the lips.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” Danica said.

  “Is that all I get?” asked Jegra, giving Danica a dejected look.

  Danica laughed and then, reaching around her neck, drew Jegra into her Prussian blue lips. Pink and blue flesh mingled as the women shared a long, sultry kiss. Danica’s forked tongue slipped inside Jegra’s mouth and tasted that familiar flavor that drove her wild. That honey-kissed sweetness that only Jegra seemed to have.

  After a brief reprieve, Jegra gave Danica another peck on the lips and then, clearing her throat, asked, “Our son?”

  “He’s gone,” Danica said. Almost as soon as she said it a flood of emotions washed over her and her eyes instantly began to stream hot, wet tears.

  “Oh, Dani,” Jegra said, her heart breaking for Danica as she finally noticed the prosthetic. “I’m so sorry.” Reaching out with her hand she gently touched the cool metallic surface of Dani’s prosthetic arm and then ran her fingers delicately along its surface.

  She wanted to tell Dani how sorry she was for having let her down. For not being there for her when she needed her love and support the most. But no amount of wishing could ever change the past. It was too late for all she should have done.

  At the same time, she wanted to promise she’d get their son back. But that wasn’t a promise she was even sure she could keep. All she could do was stand in silence, feeling as though a part of her had been ripped away—taken from her—and it quite literally had. And the woman standing across from her felt the exact same agonizing pain.

  And it was in this shared sorrow, the very recognition of the pain itself, that they found the smallest quantum of solace. For in this recognition there stirred a sense of compassion. A desire to end one another’s pain. And only by this recognition could they hope to end the other’s grief and begin the healing process.

  Until today, Danica couldn’t begin to heal. But now that Jegra had come back to her—she knew things would gradually start to get better.

  Danica placed her hands on Jegra’s face. “Don’t worry about any of that right now,” she insisted. “We may be broken and defeated, but we aren’t finished. Not by a long shot.”

  Jegra wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand and tried to smile. Her lips quivered, faltered, and she fell back into a state of melancholy. “I never knew you to be the optimistic type,” she said.

  “I’m not being optimistic,” Danica said, her brow scrunching up into a scowl. “I’m being pragmatic. We lost. But we’re going to do what any good gladiator does. We’re going to get back up to our feet and pull ourselves together. Because, like it or not, the fate of the Dagon Empire, maybe even the entire Commonwealth, depends on you and me getting our shit together.”

  “Nice pep-talk,” a third voice interjected.

  Jegra and Danica turned to see Raphine standing several meters off to their side. Barely recognizing the girl because she had grown into a stunning and vivacious woman, Jegra raised an eyebrow.

  “Raphine? Is that you?”

  “In the flesh!” she said, strolling up to them. She fell into Jegra’s arms and embraced her as though she were her own sister. She looked at Danica; they shared and awkward moment, her smile briefly fading; and then she looked back toward Jegra again. And again, all smiles.

  “You’ve turned into a total babe, babe,” Jegra said, scanning her from head to toe. She rubbed her head, like one would a child, and then pulled her in for another hug.

  “Glad to have you back in one piece, Your Grace.”

  “Glad to be back,” Jegra said, relinquishing her hold on the young woman.

  Raphine stepped back and then bowed reverently. “If you’ll excuse me, my empress, now that you’re back up on your feet, I have numerous security matters to attend to.”

  Her eyes slowly lifted back up to meet Jegra’s and she smiled one last time. Anxious to impress upon Jegra how serious she was about maintaining her safety, she wasted no time, and promptly returned to her duties. Pivoting smartly, her ponytail whipping around behind her, she sauntered off to resume her security checks.

  “Our girl is all grown up,” Jegra said proudly.

  “Indeed,” Danica agreed. “Of course, we’ll have time for catching up with her later. Right now we need to get you up to speed with everything that’s happened over the past year.”

  They shared another glance and then, happy to be reunited, turned to look out at the sunset together.

  The Thessalonica sun was already beginning to sink into the distant dunes of the southern reach and it cast a brilliant orange hue over the rolling white sands, saturating everything with its warm glow.

  Jegra’s hand slid over toward Dani’s and, fingers entwined, they stood watching the sunset intensify from orange to hot pink just before settling behind Arena City and the distant horizon.

  As the cool of dusk swept over them, in that pristine moment where the warm winds give way to the cool desert night, they stood together in contemplative silence. Although Jegra couldn’t imagine what thoughts flowed through Dani’s head, she had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t so dissimilar from her own. A deep desire for this sanguine, and positively happy moment to never end.

  The evening breeze blew Jegra’s chestnut brown hair about in soft undulations, as she watched the last sliver of light get swallowed up by the night. In that moment, she imagined she could hear the distant beating of war drums calling to her. Whether she was merely imagining it, or if the Arena games had implemented drums for entertainment’s sake, she knew not. All she knew was that she felt the warrior’s spirit inside of her stir and the gladiatrix of the galaxy had awakened once more.

  5

  “Must you make that infernal click
ing noise with your jaw?” Dakroth griped.

  “What?” Callestra said as she sat on the edge of a broken chariot that lay at the far end of the arena—the same arena that they’d been trapped in for over a year.

  “I can’t help it. When I get stressed or bored I pop my jaw. And right now I’m a whole lot of both.”

  Rhadamanthus Dakroth leaned against the stone wall of the arena and let out a disgruntled sigh. “This bloody endless mid-day heat. An entire year of non-stop swelter minus the beaches of Arkadia, brimming with the glistening skin of a hundred nude women from every imaginable species and world.”

  “Is that all your primitive mind can think about at a time like this?” Callestra asked. “Naked girls?”

  “You’re naked enough,” Dakroth mumbled as he glanced at Callestra’s flimsy, deerskin bikini. She looked like a pin-up jungle girl from the pulp books he’d read as a kid. Blue bosomed babes fighting for the glory of the Dagon Empire against foolish alien species too stupid to realize they’d fallen for the wiles of assassin women.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Callestra asked, nervously. “Our dining date isn’t for another two days.”

  Indeed, he thought, as his stomach grumbled from hunger pains. That was, perhaps, the worst part about being trapped in H’aaztre’s terrible chthonic time-loop that continuously resurrected them. The mad entity had neglected to provide any food.

  If they allowed themselves to starve to death, every seven days the nightmare would simply reset and begin all over again. What’s worse was that they were just as hungry when they woke up as when they’d died. No amount of sleep ever seemed to help stymie the hunger pains. The only thing that did that was too terrible to think about. But they did think about it. How could they not? They were flesh and blood. And they were starving.

  Over and over again the cycle of constant hunger, pain, and death recurred on an endless loop, never relinquishing their souls to the relief of eternal sleep. Driving them to the brink of madness. Driving them to cave into the depraved little voice in the back of their minds urging them to go through with the most unspeakable of crimes.